"What are you then?"

"A sun fairy."

"A sun fairy?"

"Yes; a real live one. See that cloud over toward the sun? The nice
downy one, I mean. That's my couch. I sleep on it all night. I've got
it near the sun so that it will warm up, you see."

"I see," cried Bennington. He could recognise foolery--provided it were
ticketed plainly enough. He sat down on the flat rock before indicated,
and clasped his knee with his hands, prepared to enjoy more. "Is that
your throne up there, Sun Fairy?" he asked. She had withdrawn her head
from sight.

"It is," her voice came down to him in grave tones.

"It must be a very nice one."

"The nicest throne you ever saw."

"I never saw one, but I've often heard that thrones were unpleasant
things."

"I am sitting, foolish mortal," said she, in tones of deep
commiseration, "on a soft, thick cushion of moss--much more
comfortable, I imagine, than hard, flat rocks. And the nice warm sun
is shining on me--it must be rather chilly in the woods to-day. And